The Lovers' Oath
by Lila-Blue Brandybuck
Summary: Set after the fall and sack of Thebes in the autumn of 335 BCE, Alexander and Hephaestion seek out a legendary, sacred place. Slash.


The Lovers' Oath (1/1)

Author: Lila-Blue Brandybuck

Category: historical fiction, Alexander the Great

Pairing: Alexander/Hephaestion

Date I wrote it: November 9, 2005

Feedback: Feedback of any kind is much appreciated.

Archive: ask, please.

Rating: PG... maybe PG-13?

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is inspired by ancient history and ancient sources. Imagine who you will as Alexander's and Hephaestion's faces. It is not my intent to tread upon anyone's copyright, although since I have not based this story on Oliver Stone's movie, Mary Renault's books or anyone else's fiction, only on history as Renault, Stone, et al have all done in their turn, I can only say that I do not have the expectation of profiting monetarily from this work of fiction and that it's intended for the entertainment of fans and lovers of history, but that it is mine.

Warnings: None really. It's a bit dark or sad perhaps, but not twisted and no one dies.

Beta: My dear friend, Remadi. Any mistakes that remain are mine alone.

Author's Notes: Mm-kay, this is a lot darker than I had intended it to be at the outset, but I can't seem to shake it, any more than Hephaestion and Alexander can. I do apologize. Also, FYI, a "plethron" is about 100 feet in the ancient Greek system of measurement. I'm not entirely sure the Greeks had pocket strike-a-lights, but the Romans did and they are a very simple thing to make, all you need is a flint in one hand and a small piece of iron in the other, so I don't see any particular reason they would not have had them. And I don't know what the lovers' pledge was that was made at Iolaus' tomb in Thebes, or indeed very much about Greek rituals of this kind. This is how I imagine it though and, after researching, I can see no reason why it wouldn't have gone something like this.

Summary: Set after the fall and sack of Thebes in the autumn of 335 BCE, Alexander and Hephaestion seek out a legendary, sacred place.

* * *

The twilight sounds were dying out as dark Nyx overcame the world.

"This is crazy, Alexander," Hephaestion whispered, as he and Alexander snuck through the camp, keeping to the shadows, heading toward the ruined city. "The battle is won, but there must be stragglers about. And what if the men discover we are not in your tent? It could send the entire camp into an uproar, searching." Hephaestion was always thinking of contingencies, guarding Alexander's well-being.

With a sly smile, checking around the corner of the near city wall, Alexander coaxed in a similar tone, "Worry not, Hephaestion, I already have thought of that. We're both well armed and wary. Do you think we couldn't dispatch anyone here who means us harm...?"

Hephaestion muttered a prayer under his breath that it be so, as they scurried to the cover of the sad trees outside the city gates.

"As for the men," Alexander continued when Hephaestion was close enough to hear, "Phyokrates knows no one is to enter my tent on pain of death, and since there is no better guard in all of Greece, that should keep everyone out until morning."

"I hope you're right." He sighed, peering into the darkness surrounding them like a death shroud, straining to hear anything untold in the gloom.

"It's this way." Alexander disappeared into the night and Hephaestion was hard pressed to follow over the uneven ground.

"You still haven't told me where we're going, and why in the dead of night?"

"Have you not guessed, love?" Not turning, merely cocking his head to the left and assessing their location, Alexander stopped short and Hephaestion nearly ran into him from behind.

Only slightly less than put out, Hephaestion made a face, a cross between displeasure and fascination, and replied, "I think I know, and not that I'd deny you, but why now?"

Alexander turned to look in Hephaestion's eyes under the long trees, and in that sentimentally serious way he had, shrugged and made his answer. "Why not now? Who knows when next we'll be in Thebes?" Then, again, he was gone.

Carefully making their way along the road for a distance of about a plethron, Hephaestion would guess, they came to the old burial ground. "We're here." It was a solemn moment.

Alexander bent to the ground and struck the flint against his strike-a-light to light the torch. The slight breeze, wafting the scent of fresh burning from the city to their location, threatened to put out their light, but Alexander was able to catch and hold the gift of Prometheus.

Preparing to enter the sacred ground, Hephaestion asked, "Do you know where it is?"

"Near the center. I asked one of the captives."

Together they made their way through the cemetery, between the graves and tombs of the long dead. The path they followed was well-worn, having been employed by many men over the better part of one thousand years for their same purpose.

"Around here, I think." Hephaestion stopped and cast his eyes more carefully among the stone carvings. "Here," he pointed to a modest tomb, large enough for one man's urn, for only one man made his rest here, his lover having died far away by the treachery of another's heart.

"I didn't think it would be so small. How did you see it? I would have walked right past it," Alexander astonished, though on closer inspection he could see that unlike the other tombs nearby this one was well-tended, and the stelae obviously a recent addition, a replacement for the ancient marker which had decayed over the centuries since the fall of Troy.

Hephaestion smiled a small, sad smile.

Alexander bent down to read the epitaph. It read:

"Here lies Iolaus, son of Iphicles, son of Amphitryon.

Eromenos, nephew, and loyal friend of Heracles.

Though great were his deeds in life, still greater was his love."

Stepping back to Hephaestion's side, he took out the wineskin and some bread. He handed the wineskin to Hephaestion. Hepheastion solemnly uncorked it and took a drink. It was sweet wine. He swallowed and wiped at his mouth, as he handed the skin back to Alexander, who repeated Hephaestion's actions. Hephaestion took a small piece of bread and ate it, as did Alexander.

Alexander poured the wine over the grave marker and Hephaestion crumbled the bread, and they said, in unison, "Hear us, o gods on Olympus, as Iolaus showed steadfast loyalty and love to Heracles, so may we ever be to each other, living and dying for one another, always in each other's heart. And by the Fates' three-fold decree, may we stay true to one another even in death."

Then from his belt-pouch Alexander pulled a small handful of frankincense, the most expensive offering for the gods' favor. He handed it and the torch to Hephaestion, and Hephaestion placed it in the censer and caught it alight with the torch and blew on the sweet smelling fragments until they smoked and glowed in the night, sending their prayer aloft. Alexander let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding, as Hephaestion rose and turned his electric gaze upon him. There was no need to speak.

Having completed the ritual, they walked back the way they had come.

Hours later, but still before Eos woke the world, Alexander and Hephaestion lay intertwined, heads on the same cushion, waiting for Hypnos to claim them for a few hours.

"Alexander?" Hephaestion's head rose from the pillow so he could see his lover's face in the dim light of the tent.

"Hmm?" he answered, near to sleep.

Hephaestion had felt uneasy since the ritual was completed. "You'll never leave me, will you?"

Alexander became more awake and opened his eyes to look into his lover's, hearing the disconcertment in his voice. "No, Hephaestion, never. Not even for the world."

Knowing to most people that would be a forsworn exaggeration, Hephaestion knew that Alexander meant just that. Even so: "You mean it?"

"Yes, love." He kissed him sweetly and with passion, making his earnestness felt.

Hephaestion held him tighter about the waist and Alexander returned the pressure, sensing Hephaestion needed it, and knowing that he did too. Alexander hadn't said anything, hadn't needed to, but he felt as if a stranger had walked over their grave as well. Although, he was sure that it was just the ruined, tragic city and the grim business that had brought them here that was the cause, the feeling had returned just now. He hoped that it would leave when they left the city. Until then, in times like these, only Hephaestion's presence was a comfort. He concentrated on Hephaestion's breathing, and Hephaestion on Alexander's, and soon, anchored by each other, they drifted into an undisturbed sleep.

The End


End file.
